<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>everything you feel is good by sextile</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026303">everything you feel is good</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sextile/pseuds/sextile'>sextile</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>something sweet, a peach tree [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Study, Crushes, Falling In Love, M/M, i think, spoilers: they dont get together (yet), tsukki as an enneagram type 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:42:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sextile/pseuds/sextile</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Yamaguchi was not stars or flowers or fairy lights. He was not dainty. Yamaguchi was the final spark of fireworks that caught you off guard when you thought the show was over. Yamaguchi was the wind and air and breeze– giving and scorching and gentle. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima cannot, for the life of him, understand his best friend.</p><p>alternate title: tsukishima is stupid (derogatory)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>something sweet, a peach tree [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047079</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>everything you feel is good</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for my friend, who deserves more than the universe has given them, even if it doesn’t feel like that sometimes</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tsukishima knew that Jupiter had 53 named moons. </p><p> </p><p>He knew that the Andromeda Galaxy was 2.537 million light years away from earth. He knew that dinosaurs were categorised by the structure of their hip bones, the biggest hunter was the spinosaurus, and the earliest named dinosaur was the Eoraptor. Motherboards had chipsets that transferred data and were made of the northbridge and southbridge. The first phone was made in 1876.</p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima had pulled apart every complex subject in an effort to understand the world around him.</p><p> </p><p>But what he didn’t know was how many freckles were on Yamaguchi’s face, and how many of them formed constellations that reflected the ancient tradition of storytelling in the night sky––and he didn’t know why his lack of knowledge about his friend irritated him. </p><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi was an anomaly in the code of his life he had perfected. A blip on the screen of his scanner and it was getting closer to him.</p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima glanced to his right, watching Yamaguchi doodle falling stars in the corner of his notebook. If he wanted to (which he didn’t), he could’ve berated him and told him to pay attention, but it wasn’t like he needed to. Yamaguchi was good at math.</p><p> </p><p>He let his eyes observe the flutter of his eyelashes and the trace slope of nose to his lips. His eyes stayed too long on Yamaguchi’s lips. </p><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi felt the weight of Tsukishima’s stare as his eyes flicked to his, holding his gaze for a moment before quickly looking back to his book, a blush tinging his cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima didn’t know what it was. That <em> thing </em> that made Yamaguchi so…interesting. He was above average at best: Straight B student, timid, nervous. From all logical and objective viewpoints, Yamaguchi was nothing. Yet Tsukishima had kept a hold of him for years, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t leave––he knew he could have kicked Yamaguchi and never seen him again.</p><p> </p><p>But he <em> didn’t. </em></p><p> </p><p>And that was infuriating.</p><p> </p><p>He glanced at the equations scrawled on the board and lazily made his way through the exercises. He had better things to do. </p><p> </p><p>Time crawled by as class came to an end for the day, and Tsukishima leaned against the brick pillar at the entrance, waiting. He slipped on his headphones and crossed his arms, ignoring the mass of students and focusing on the screen of his phone, clicking on a song that unfortunately reminded him of Yamaguchi. </p><p> </p><p>Mid-way through the chorus, his friend came bounding to him with a smile on his face. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re here!” </p><p> </p><p>He quirked an eyebrow and began walking out of the school gates, muttering, “Why wouldn’t I be?”</p><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi hummed and shifted his bag. “You looked mad at me in math,” he said, looking at his feet as they walked the familiar path. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mad? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima didn’t reply, but he took his headphones off, leaving it around his neck, and let the music drift softly out of it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and listened as Yamaguchi continued to recount how he overheard Hinata and Kageyama bicker over the pronunciation of ‘onomatopoeia’ and gush about Yachi’s new poster designs for the team.</p><p> </p><p>As they approached the crossroads where they usually split ways to go home, Yamaguchi stopped suddenly, picking up his head. “Oh! My mum asked if you wanted to maybe come over for a sleepover? On the weekend?”</p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima opened his mouth but Yamaguchi stumbled on. “You– you don’t have to though! It’s okay if you don’t wanna, I understand!” His cheeks flushed again as he waved his hands, dismissing his own invitation. “Ahh…it’s probably stupid, you wouldn’t want to have a sleepover, you’re probably studying.” </p><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi’s voice cracked on the last word and he bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything more.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t give me the chance to reply,” Tsukishima said, fighting to stop an involuntary smile from taking over his mouth.  </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, Tsukki. Did you…did you wanna have a sleepover?”</p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima considered his friend, taking in his wide eyes that darted away. He looked down at Yamaguchi’s hands that held onto his bag straps, shaking slightly. He was nervous– why?</p><p> </p><p>The evening came with cold air, doing nothing to hide the deepening pink of Yamaguchi’s cheeks. In the dim light of street lamps, Tsukishima noted that the tips of his hair were lighter and that the brown of his eyes sparkled, just a little brighter than the surfacing stars on the backdrop of dark sky behind him. Objective observations.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. A sleepover sounds nice.”</p><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi beamed and Tsukishima found that he had to look away. He brushed a strand of his hair out of his face and nodded stiffly, realising that he found it…endearing. </p><p> </p><p>He filed the thought away for later.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>School on Friday was a blur and he was fast approaching the door to Yamaguchi’s house. </p><p> </p><p>He had never been to a sleepover, so to prepare for anything Yamaguchi could have thrown at him meant spending an hour going through blogs and articles on what happened at sleepovers. They stepped through the threshold of the house and he distinctly remembered one article mentioning spin the bottle. He hoped to god that Yamaguchi wouldn’t make him play stupid games like that.</p><p> </p><p>He greeted Yamaguchi’s mother at the door, who smiled in the exact same way her son did when he understood a math concept. Her voice was soft, gentle with an edge. It was unnerving every time she looked at him during dinner, and he made sure he was on his best behaviour. </p><p> </p><p>They helped clean the kitchen then made their way to Yamaguchi’s room. He flopped onto his bed, blowing his fringe out of his eyes. It was getting long.</p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima placed his bag at the door and he sat on Yamaguchi’s chair, scooting it closer to the bed. “What do you want to do?” he asked, crossing his ankles.</p><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi turned onto his stomach and rested his chin on a bridge made by his fingers. “I uh…I don’t know. This is my first sleepover.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Huh. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi blinked, tilting his head in thought. “Well, you’re my first friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima nodded slowly and watched as his bangs fell back into his face as he leaned off his bed to grab the remote, switching the TV on. “Should we play the match that Daichi-san asked us to watch?” Yamaguchi asked. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he replied. His hand twitched in his lap at the trivial urge to tuck Yamaguchi’s hair behind his ear or clip it back.  </p><p> </p><p>Instantly realising the stupidity of his thought, he grimaced at himself and dug his fingers into the seat of the chair. Runaway thoughts were enemies to his demeanor and he wished there was a way to remove them before he embarrassed himself further.  </p><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi crawled off the bed and stuck the DVD in the player, getting comfy on the centre of his bed. He patted the area next to him. “Sit. It’s more comfy than the chair.” </p><p> </p><p>Eyeing the area next to him like it was a possible threat, Tsukishima sat next to him, crossing his legs. He met eyes with Yamaguchi who was grinning.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re so stiff,” he said, a giggle escaping his mouth. “Loosen up, you’ve been in my room before.” He poked his thigh which earned him a scowl, to which Yamaguchi only laughed.</p><p> </p><p>He was right. He had been in his room before, so what made this any different?</p><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi pressed play and only a few minutes in, he yawned, mumbling a quiet, “Can I rest my head on your shoulder?” </p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima turned to take in his features, eyes half lidded and blinking too often to even fake being awake. “...Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>A small smile flitted to his lips and he leant to the side, nesting his head on the dip of the other’s collarbone, arm against Tsukishima’s, who felt heat rise to his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>They had never been that close. </p><p> </p><p>The space between them was warmer than the shrieking hugs after a well won match and Tsukishima felt all his research fly out the window. He was never in control when he was next to Yamaguchi who seemed to enjoy throwing him in situations he had never accounted for. </p><p> </p><p>Yamaguchi was not stars or flowers or fairy lights. He was not <em> dainty. </em> Yamaguchi was the final spark of fireworks that caught you off guard when you thought the show was over. Yamaguchi was the wind and air and breeze––giving and scorching and gentle. </p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima couldn’t keep his eyes on the screen that demanded attention, the dimming sky of the window only blurring into the shadowed walls of the room, lights off. He looked down to see Yamaguchi’s hands loosely curled together on his lap and something in Tsukishima’s chest ached. </p><p> </p><p>“You can sleep if you’re tired,” he whispered, not really knowing if Yamaguchi was still watching the match.</p><p> </p><p>“M’kay… m’gonna lie down,” Yamaguchi mumbled, moving onto his side and resting his head on Tsukishima’s thigh.</p><p> </p><p>And Tsukishima swore his heart stopped.</p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima knew that Jupiter has 53 named moons. He knew that the Andromeda Galaxy was 2.537 million light years away. But he didn’t know why he felt like a teenage boy with a sobbing heart in his hands. He didn’t know why his face felt like it was on fire and the universe was swallowing him up like the space around him was a black hole and he was the floating junk of a satellite. </p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima knew that dinosaurs were categorised by the structure of their hip bones. But he didn’t know how far Yamaguchi’s freckles extended down his chest. Tsukishima knew that the biggest hunter was the spinosaurus, but did Yamaguchi? Did Yamaguchi know that the stutter of his heart was not something he could comprehend? It was possible, of course, but that didn’t mean he knew it was possible for him to feel something like it. Tsukishima knew that the earliest named dinosaur was the Eoraptor. But he wanted to know what his given name felt like on Yamaguchi’s lips, and he wanted to say <em> Tadashi, </em> if he would let him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> If he would let him. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Chipsets in motherboards transferred data, but would kissing Yamaguchi have the same, cliche spark that every teen movie spoke of? How did Alexander Bell feel when he made the first phone in 1876? Did it feel like Venus and Mercury colliding?</p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima looked at the boy, curled up next to his leg, oblivious to the way his thoughts were tripping over themselves, almost wanting to chase their way back to Yamaguchi. The boy who made teams brace themselves when he lined up to serve. The boy who smiled with his eyes and teeth and whose sweetened honeycomb voice wasn’t afraid to tell Tsukishima when he was stepping out of line.</p><p> </p><p>The familiar slam of volleyball against wood made him jolt and he returned to the universe where he was just a boy whose friend made him feel like he was falling. </p><p> </p><p>The video showed the winning point going to the team they were challenging, and it stopped on their celebration. He turned off the TV and studied Yamaguchi with caution. His breathing was slowed and his hands were lax, clasped at his chest. Hesitantly, he slid his hand into dark hair, brain fizzing out at the feel of smooth strands slipping through his fingers. </p><p> </p><p>He was going <em> insane. </em></p><p> </p><p>He knew, objectively of course, that boys had crushes on boys, but he never really thought about it until now. With Yamaguchi. But there was something not so objective about the possibility of a crush on his friend.</p><p> </p><p>He was showing symptoms of a crush. He was well aware of that because he was already acting stupider than both Hinata and Kageyama combined. He was one thought away from telling himself there was something wrong with him. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> If you kiss him, you can count the freckles on his face. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His body revolted against his mind and he pressed both of his hands to his face. The sun was approximately 5504 degrees celsius, but it felt like his face was hotter. He was burning and he wanted to pluck his brain from its cradle in his head and fling it at the floor.</p><p> </p><p>There was something humiliating about getting embarrassed when absolutely <em> nothing </em> was happening. </p><p> </p><p>And that’s why Yamaguchi was a <em> menace.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima removed his hands from his face and glared at the back of his friend’s head, but not without noticing how the edges of his hair curled outwards slightly. </p><p> </p><p>Tsukishima inhaled slowly. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe a crush wouldn’t be so bad.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>whew ok tysm to ares, k, athena and rain ily all sm&lt;3333</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>